Wish You Were There
by WildMeiLing
Summary: Joseph is going to dinner. Clarisse is staying home - a sad excuse for a summary, I know. Really, it's just a bit of fluff to provide some Clarisse-and-Josephness.


_This silly bit of fluff fits into my "Just Friends" universe - where Rupert is Clarisse's BFF, and Joseph is the love of her life._

 _Since I don't own_ The Princess Diaries _, I don't make money off this, and that's okay. The happiness of writing two of my favorite characters is enough for the giddy fangirl in me._

 _Thanks so much for stopping by to read!_

* * *

"So if you think we -... Oh!" The Queen had looked up midsentence to make eye contact with her bodyguard for the first time since he'd entered her office a few moments prior, and what she saw was enough to bring her words to a halt.

"Go ahead," Joseph grumbled. "Say something. Everyone else already has."

Clarisse quirked an eyebrow as she walked around her desk to where he stood.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, but sincerely.

She stopped in front of him, perhaps the tiniest bit too close, and having already forgiven him, was now curiously taking in his apparel. It was difficult not to reach out and touch him, to let her fingers trail along the blue necktie with the tiny green specks that was set off by the lighter blue of his dress shirt. The shirt and tie were nestled in a beige blazer and matched with khaki trousers. She leaned back slightly to inspect his footwear: dark brown dress shoes.

"My mother doesn't like to see me in black. It makes her worried." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "About my emotional state."

Clarisse smiled and allowed herself to tug and straighten the handkerchief just peeking out of his jacket pocket. "Mothers worry. It's what we do, and we're terribly good at it." Her task completed, she reluctantly dropped her hand back to her side. She caught his eyes flitting longingly to her fingers, and she decided to change the unspoken subject. "You seem nervous to me."

"I am," he admitted.

"But why? You've always wanted them to come."

"I suppose after ten years, I stopped thinking they ever would."

"Your father has finally retired. Your parents have time to travel now."

"I suspect my mother doesn't believe my father has it in him to _stay_ retired, and has decided to get him out of the country."

Clarisse chuckled. "We'll have the same trouble with you one day," she warned him lightly, knowing that the senior Mr. Romero's small-town medical practice was as all-consuming an endeavor as royal security was for his son.

"Perhaps," he conceded. "Still, I wish you could come."

His regret was obvious the moment the words left his mouth - not for having thought them, but for saying them aloud. He looked away as if embarrassed.

But Clarisse, though surprised, was rather pleased to hear his unfiltered thoughts. "Really? Do you?"

Her reaction put him at ease again, and after a slight hesitation, he clarified - at least, as much as a liberal interpretation of propriety would allow. "Yes. Of course. It would be nice to be able to introduce my...friend to my parents, to sit comfortably in a restaurant with no risk of being gawked at. Just a simple, leisurely meal with lots of wine."

"Mm, that would be lovely," she agreed almost dreamily.

"Then again," he continued thoughtfully, "the more wine there is, the more likely they would be to start reminiscing, and you would probably hear humiliating tales of my childhood. Perhaps it's better you don't come along."

"You're such a tease. How I would love a dinner with lots of wine and Teenage Joseph stories."

"Wouldn't you just." He narrowed his eyes before the corners of his mouth lifted, an involuntary giveaway of his amusement.

"I wish you weren't going," she said suddenly, catching them both off guard. "I mean..."

"Do you?" he prompted gently.

She gave a nervous little laugh. "That came out wrong. Naturally, I am happy for you that you get to spend this time with your family. It's just..." She bit her lip and considered how to explain. "I feel better when all my favorite people are home and under one roof. Pierre visits only rarely, and Philippe travels more and more with Rupert, and without him for that matter... Does it sound silly?"

"No," he assured her. "Not at all."

She noticed that without having moved their feet, they had somehow inched closer together. She also noticed what wondrous things the blue tones of his ensemble did for his eyes. "Will you bring me back some of that strawberry-pear shortcake?"

"Don't I always?"

She smiled widely. "Yes. I'm awfully lucky that way."

He must have noticed it, too - the narrow space between them. She thought his breath came a little faster and he seemed to fight the urge to close the gap altogether. "You'll have to wait up for me."

"I'll wait forever for that shortcake. But speaking of waiting -" She looked pointedly at her wristwatch. "Your parents have been waiting ten years for a proper tour of downtown Pyrus and the surrounding countryside. You shouldn't make them wait any longer."

"I'm the one who's been waiting," he said. "Waiting for them to find the right time."

"You're awfully patient," she breathed.

"Some things are worth the wait," he said quietly.

They stood a few moments longer until existing on the edge of something impossible became almost physically painful. He leaned in to leave on her cheek a chaste kiss, which she was returning before it was fully delivered. It was a normal custom for ordinary Genovians, but one whose affection was inappropriate for them, and tainted by a need to be exchanged swiftly and secretly.

"Feel free to profoundly impress your parents by sending them your Queen's best regards."

"I will."

All the permissible words had been said.

He smiled and stepped back. She touched his face - her thumb sweeping along the edge of his neatly trimmed beard eliciting from him a quivering sigh - before widening the space even further.

-0-

Rupert appeared before her, forcing her to lower the book she had been pretending to read.

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

"Not yet."

He glanced over his shoulder at the coffee table behind him. "Your tea is getting cold."

"It has only just arrived. It's still quite hot."

"I notice there are two cups. I don't suppose one of them is for me."

She stopped the unnecessary evasion since they both knew quite well for whom the second cup was destined and why. "There would be three, but _someone_ doesn't like pears."

He feigned a shocked expression and a stern tone. "Clarisse! How many times do I have to tell you not to say that out loud? If word got out that His Majesty didn't like pears, our enemies would stage a coup, the monarchy would topple, and Genovia would cease to exist as we know it."

"Darling Rupert, always so dramatic."

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Enjoy your shortcake."

"I will."

"And the company." He paused just inside the royal bedchamber. "But not _too_ much," he added with a suggestive wink.

"Go on."

He laughed as he pulled the doors shut behind him, and she settled back in with her book, feeling almost content despite her dearest wish to be somewhere else for just one evening.

The End


End file.
